I shall never rush into the secret room

"I shall never rush into the secret room, not for her, and only because of her..."

It's a phrase taken from one of Shakespeare's works, I'm not quite sure which, was hardly the Literature person but I added a lil' more me in there. But anyway, the act of rushing into the secret room implied taking things in your own hands, committing suicide. And for a whole second some couple years ago, it felt like the only sensible thing to do. But I didn't. It was because of her that I quickly snapped out of it. I can't die, not because she did. I have to live, for the both of us, for what she believed in and wanted to do, for doing right for this cruel world.

I don't know how I got through or if I could continue. There were moments of good and not so good and really bad times. There were ways 've tried to express myself but only to futility. I would write long letters sending to an address long gone. I would imagine tracing the name of my dead lover with my finger on her tombstone and saying hi, sharing with her my day. I would smile, or cry and often say things no one gets. I could never stand another with the same name. And I would kill anyone who said I should just move on. I was stubborn and quite stupid I would say but no one's me. No one will ever go through what has happened in my shoes, as me. I know how tragedies struck everyone everyday, I know a mother who loses her kid to a drunk driver, I know shit. But no one has gotten to know her like I did and then feel her slowly slipping away in your arms. No one has to cry late at night, at a song, or while watching television, or be locking themselves in the darn toilet just so you could find a moment of peace and to vent. No one has to keep a secret and live life like nothing has happened.

Pain, it comes in huge doses and for free. For the swells of happiness I used to feel in my heart, I now trade for pain. It has become a part of me. And I think it's a good thing.